


Untouched (And I Need You So Much)

by punchlad



Series: Choose (More) Love! [2]
Category: The Tick (TV 2017), The Tick - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward First Times, Canon Compliant Anatomy, Canon-Typical Violence, Idiots in Love, Janet: Friend or Foe? Why Not Both!, M/M, Sexual Frustration, The Tick isn't human..... probably, original villain characters, the Tick is Confused but Enthused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 06:08:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20595968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punchlad/pseuds/punchlad
Summary: Arthur takes a step closer. “It might get weird.”The Tick grins, antennae wiggling. “I’m weird, chum!”





	Untouched (And I Need You So Much)

**Author's Note:**

> Continuing with my theme of titling every fic in this series with lyrics from 2007 hits. You're welcome.
> 
> Just so there's no confusion about what you're getting into by reading this: I almost just made the summary "This time, they boink."

The day Big Pharma and Miss Magnet escape the Super-Villain Detention Center is a surprise to no one but Ty Rathbone, whose expression is more strained than Arthur has seen it in a long time as he delivers the emergency broadcast. Arthur suspects even he’s feigning shock for the cameras.

“Of course they were going to team up and bust out. Whose bright idea was it to let them share a cell?” Janet waves a dismissive hand. “Idiots, the lot of you.”

Arthur refuses to agree with anything that comes out of the villain crashing on his couch, no matter how right she is. “Look,” he says. “Nobody knew they were girlfriends.”

“Ex-girlfriends,” says Edgelord, who is also crashing on his couch — not that Arthur had seen him sleep at all during the two days they’d been here. 

The Tick slaps an affectionate hand down on Edgelord’s shoulder. The teen barely flinches. “True love does not simply end! Even dimmed by turmoil or cast aside in regret, it lingers in your deepest heart, waiting to be ignited once more!”

Janet ignores him. She’s getting good at that. “Her Facebook profile said _ It’s Complicated. _”

Tick steps into Jamet’s line of sight, forcing her to pay attention to him. He’s getting good at that_ . _ “Isn’t love always complicated, Miss Lint?”

Janet looks at him over the top of her frames, scowling. “It’s _ Janet. _ I’m undercover right now, dickhead.”

The Tick winces. “I’m sorry, Miss Lint,” he says. His mistake does not occur to him, and Janet doesn’t get the chance to go after him for it before Arthur interrupts.

“How are you undercover? You always wear those same clothes!”

“Uhh, hello?” Janet points to the glasses on her face. “Perfect disguise.” There aren’t even lenses in them. “I told you, I’m laying low for awhile. Me and those lovebirds aren’t exactly on great terms, so it makes sense to hang around near big, blue, and beefy over here while things settle. Besides, what are you going to do, arrest me?”

“No, that would be too reasonable,” Arthur grumbles, despite knowing he’s going to be ignored.

The Tick beams. “No need to arrest you unless you commit a new crime!” he says. All of Janet’s previous crimes are, apparently, already past their statute of limitations in the Court of Tick — a fun fact that Arthur had discovered when he came home two nights ago and found the Tick setting blankets out for the villains like they were stray kittens. 

“The SVDC could never hold you, Miss,” Edgelord says. He’s a big fan of acronyms. This is one of exactly three things that Arthur knows for sure about him. 

Janet reaches over on the couch to pet him like he’s an obedient puppy. “You’re damn right, kid.” As usual, Edgelord doesn’t look up from his tablet, but he must not mind, because he doesn’t scoot away.

Arthur feels like he’s going to lose his mind, but before he can the Tick crosses the room and winds his arms around his waist. It calms Arthur down almost immediately, but it’s also embarrassing. His face goes a little pink. “Not in front of the villains,” Arthur whispers.

“Too late,” Janet says, over-hearing easily. Arthur really did need to get better at whispering. She twists around to look over her shoulder at him, a smarmy smile on her face. There were times that Arthur thought Janet was kind of pretty, but this is not one of them. “What’s the bashful act for? Everybody already knows the Tick is drilling your ass three ways to Sunday.”

For a second, there’s a hesitant silence in the apartment — a blissful moment where Arthur can almost let himself believe Janet’s tactless declaration would pass by without comment. But, of course, this is wishful thinking to the highest degree. 

Everyone speaks up at once.

“I don’t have a drill,” says the Tick.

“Don’t be a prude,” says Janet.

“Could be the other way around,” says Edgelord.

“Okay,” says Arthur. His voice is shriller than he’s ever heard it. “Get the Hell out of my apartment.”

* * *

Loving the Tick had come as easily to Arthur as everything else in his life. That is to say, it had been dragged out of him, kicking and screaming. 

It’s not that love was unfamiliar territory for Arthur. His family had always been brimming with love, both before and after the Incident that led to his father’s death. Even Walter, who he often resented despite knowing he shouldn’t, had earned love from Arthur, even if he’d never see him as a parent.

Loving the Tick didn’t have to be any different from that. As mysterious as the Great Blue Yonder was, he was also very simple. The Tick loved Arthur; there was nothing complicated about it. In fact, he’d practically announced it from day one. It was Destiny that brought them together, after all, and Tick had made it more than clear that he fully agreed with Her decision. It was simple to love him back, at least after the initial shock of his existence wore off. After all, the Tick’s love for Arthur was pure.

In the end, though, the purity might be the issue.

The first problem was simple.

The Tick used a lot of colorful words to describe Arthur — heroic, genius, strong, stalwart, noble, handsome, super_ . _ When they first met, Arthur didn’t feel like any of those things. Realistically, he hadn’t _ been _ any of those things. But letting the Tick into his life changed not only the way Arthur saw himself but the way that he acted, and felt, and _ was. _ By simply believing that Arthur was all of these grand things, he allowed Arthur to slowly but surely inch towards that being his reality. After Arthur accepted this, loving the Tick was the easiest thing in the world. 

The second problem was sex.

For the most part, lust was uncharted territory for Arthur. He simply hadn’t had time to cultivate an interest in such things. Sure, Arthur knew that he was gay, and he would look at men with vague interest from the to time, but it was only ever in passing. Nobody had inspired enough interest in Arthur to prompt him to actually find the motivation to act on it. Arthur hadn’t expected this to ever change — but then, the Tick had brought out a lot of unexpected changes in Arthur since he came barging into his life.

Arthur had been hesitant at first — too hesitant, he admits that now. Where the Tick had been intent on diving head-first into the heart of the issue (once he was aware of it), Arthur had tested the waters one toe at a time. It was a lingering touch here, a snuggle there, and then that spur-of-the-moment kiss. Just as the Tick had awakened an interest in Arthur, it seemed that Arthur had roused something in the Tick, too, if how eager he was in receiving physical attention from Arthur was any indication. If it were anyone else, Arthur would have taken the Tick’s behavior as a clear indication that he was Interested with a Capital I. After all, Arthur may not have any first-hand experience, but he knew how it worked. In theory.

But it was the Tick, who doesn’t know how almost anything works, in theory or otherwise. The Tick who doesn’t know what he is nor any memory of who he used to be. The Tick who would never hurt a fly unless that fly had criminal intentions. The Tick who was willing to believe almost anything Arthur told him at face value. The Tick who was genuinely content to just kiss Arthur for hours at a time.

Honestly, it makes Arthur feel kind of skeezy, feeling his body light up with arousal as the Tick scoops him up in his arms even knowing full well that all the Tick wants is to pepper his face with butterfly kisses — a favorite of Tick’s, after Arthur had explained them. “There are so many ways to kiss!” the Tick had exclaimed. “What a huge, wonderful world we live in, chum!” Arthur quickly found that the Tick’s enthusiasm extended to every kind of kiss and, like most things that Tick put his mind to, he was very good at it. This does nothing to dissuade Arthur’s lust, especially once Tick figures out how to properly get his tongue involved.

The Tick’s interest seemed, at least for the most part, completely chaste. No matter how long they made out on the couch, his hands never wandered. If the Tick ever grabbed Arthur’s ass, it was only as a hand-hold to lift him into a tighter hug. When Arthur undressed, the Tick didn’t avert his eyes, but he didn’t leer, either. By all accounts, the Tick loved Arthur entirely without promiscuous intent.

On the other hand, Arthur had no doubt that he could convince Tick to have sex with him. It wouldn’t even be a challenge. The Tick was enthusiastic about trying just about anything Arthur suggested, from playing the ancient copy of DDR he’d found in the back of his closet to taking a snuggle break in the middle of evening patrol. But did the Tick _ want _ that kind of intimacy? If the Tick’s interest was entirely dependent on Arthur suggesting it, was that really alright? Hell, was the Tick even equipped for that sort of thing? 

The truth is, Arthur has no idea what Tick has going on between his legs. They’ve been together for two months, two weeks, and four days — not that anybody’s counting — and so far Arthur hasn’t figured out how to ask.

* * *

The Tick announces his own confusion not even an hour after Janet leaves. This is a solid day and a half after Arthur had tried to kick her out. By all means she might come back.

“Arthur,” Tick says. “What’s drilling?”

Arthur had been in the middle of taking a sip of his drink, but he refuses to choke. This isn’t a sitcom and this cold brew wasn’t cheap. Carefully, Arthur swallows and sits his cup aside. The Tick, who’s sitting across from him, leans forward impatiently.

“Just don’t worry about it, Tick.” Arthur already knows the Tick won’t drop it, but he’s not going down without a fight. “She was just being crude.”

“Miss Lint is always rude,” Tick says, mishearing. His antennae are twitching like mad — Arthur can tell he’s thinking hard. “Still, it bothered you, right?”

Vouching for a new strategy, Arthur points to the laptop he has open in front of him. “I’m trying to do research,” he says. “You know, so we can catch Big Pharma? Miss Magnet? The escaped villains?”

The Tick smiles at that. “I believe in you, chum! With your big brain on the job, we’ll have a solid plan on our hands in no time!” Arthur doesn’t get a chance to feel pleased by the Tick’s praise before the Tick is steamrolling the conversation forward again. “But, I still don’t know what drilling is. Unless she meant like fracking? Kevin told me about fracking. That involves drills, doesn’t it?”

Arthur groans. “Tick.”

“But,” the Tick continues, frowning. “I don’t know how I’d do that to your ass.”

This is it. Arthur is going to die. After years of telling his therapists that he was never suicidal, it was time to prove himself wrong. He wonders if he could launch himself out the window quickly enough that the Tick wouldn’t be able to save him. 

Probably not.

As if reading Arthur’s mind, the Tick’s expression transforms into a pout. He reaches across the table to take Arthur’s hand and, after a second of hesitation, Arthur laces their fingers together with a squeeze.

“I know I don’t get it,” the Tick admits. “But I’d like to. I don’t want to upset you, fella.” The Tick returns the squeeze to Arthur’s fingers. “All I want is a happy Arthur.”

Some of the nervous tension in Arthur’s body softens. “I am happy,” Arthur says. He hopes he sounds as genuine as he feels. He must, if the way Tick’s eyes light up is any indication. Encouraged, Arthur continues, “I love you.”

Tick gives him his very best 1000-watt smile. “I love you too, Arthur!” This must be the millionth time they’ve said those words to each other, but it still makes Arthur feel warm from head to toe. (Plus, the romantic context is still new.) The Tick rubs his thumb over Arthur’s palm, slow and reassuring. “Never any doubt about that, right?”

“Right. I’d never doubt that.” Arthur relaxes, slowly but surely. Maybe this is okay. It’s going to have to be, because the Tick isn’t going to drop it. He does his best to steel himself. “Okay,” he says. “What Miss Lint said…”

The Tick leans forward, antennae twitching eagerly. Arthur tries not to let himself tense up at the intensity of Tick’s focus. He bites his lip, formulating.

“What Miss Lint said,” Arthur says, starting over. “She was insinuating that we’ve been having sex.” Arthur watches Tick carefully for a reaction, but the Tick’s expression doesn’t change at all. Arthur isn’t sure what to think about that, but he continues. “So, drilling, in this context, just means having sex with someone. It’s just a figure of speech. A… really crude figure of speech.”

Tick nods, slowly. “No actual drill?” 

“No, Tick.” Arthur bites back a laugh. “No drill.”

The Tick brings a hand to his chin, expression pensive. Arthur recognizes this pose; typically, it means that the Tick is going to be lost in thought for a while, so Arthur goes back to his work. Or, at least, he tries to — in the end, Arthur can’t quite focus, and just ends up staring at the same classified villain file in front of him for about fifteen minutes. They really do use the worst pictures for mugshots.

Sixteen minutes later, the Tick pipes up again. His expression is deadly serious. “Arthur, do you want to sex?”

The question floors Arthur with enough intensity that the botched grammar doesn’t even occur to him. All at once he feels just about ready to pass out, and it must show on his face, because the Tick leaps out of his chair and hurries to Arthur’s side. 

Tick rests a large, warm hand on the back of Arthur’s neck. “Bad question?” Tick asks. He sounds a little scared, which is an uncanny way for someone like the Tick to sound. 

Arthur leans into the Tick’s touch, then peers up at him. “No,” he says. “Not a bad question.” Arthur hesitates. “Do _ you _ want to?”

The Tick tenses at that question, just a little, like he’s preparing for a battle. His grip on the back of Arthur’s neck tightens. 

“Not sure, chum,” Tick admits. His voice is uncharacteristically quiet. Shy? 

“Not sure you want to do it,” Arthur asks, “or not sure about sex in general?”

Tick’s face reddens slightly. Oh, he _ is _ shy. Arthur almost feels bad for how cute he finds it. “I know about it.” He swallows hard enough for Arthur to hear. “Mostly from TV. It sounds neato! But I don’t know the details.”

Arthur swallows hard. “Do you… _ want _ the details?”

A mixture of relief and excitement lights up the Tick’s face, and Arthur doesn’t give him time to answer — he’d tried his best, but before he can think better of it, the rambling floodgates open. The Tick is all ears. “Alright… So, when two people love each other very much, and sometimes when they don’t…” 

The Talk only lasts about thirty minutes, but to Arthur it feels like years have passed before he finally runs out of things to say. In the end, Arthur isn’t sure that he’s explained it well enough, and the Tick has the strangest look on his face; he can’t bring himself to continue. In lieu of that, Arthur opens a new tab on his computer and, after a brief YouTube search, quickly discovers that there’s better sex ed available online these days than he ever received in a health class. 

Though Arthur had tried his best, the visuals are clearly helpful, if the rapid twitching of Tick’s antennae as he watched was any indication. Eventually, watching the videos becomes a little too embarrassing for Arthur (though he respects how thorough and educational they are) and he returns to trying to get some research done. Or, at least, pretending to. Really it’s an impossible task, but Arthur feels better sitting on his phone pretending to read than watching the Tick stare down cartoon genitals. 

Nearly an hour later, the Tick closes the laptop. “I think I get it, chum!”. He sounds the same as usual, bright and enthused, but there’s that odd look on his face again.

Arthur tries his best to smile, but he’s so damn nervous that it doesn’t quite work. “Yeah?”

“Clear as dew!” The Tick contemplates for a moment, tapping his fingers on the table. The table rattles a bit in protest; he’s not controlling his strength, but Arthur decides not to comment so long as nothing starts breaking. Then, before Arthur can think twice, the Tick is springing out of his chair. “I’m going for a walk now!” 

Arthur nearly falls out of his own chair in a race to follow. “What? Where are you going!?” 

The Tick is shouting now. “I feel like a can of fizzy soda shaken far beyond his limit! If I’m going to burst I should be sure that I’m out in the grass where the pigeons can enjoy the sugary results of my demise!”

“What—?” 

The Tick is already marching for the door. He stops abruptly before he reaches it, though, nearly causing a collision as Arthur follows. Arthur stumbles back just in time for the Tick to round on him again and, before Arthur can utter another protest, he swoops down to give him a kiss.

It’s brief, as far as kisses from the Tick go, but it floods Arthur with relief. He doesn’t really know why the Tick is running off, but if he kisses him like that, it can’t be because he’s having second thoughts. When the kiss breaks, both men are smiling. 

“Come home soon?” 

“Sure thing, fella!” 

The apartment door rattles when the Tick closes it a little too hard.

* * *

Arthur makes it less than fifteen minutes alone in the apartment before he calls Dot. It only takes a single ring for her to pick up, which definitely means that Dot has either taken the day off to visit their mother or ditched to do who-knows-what with Overkill, but Arthur will nag her about that a different day. He gets through telling her what happened and then half-way through anxiously wondering what was _ going to _ happen before Dot cuts him off. 

“Arthur, listen to me, okay?” Dot sounds exasperated, which might’ve hurt Arthur’s feelings except that Dot almost always sounds exasperated. “The Tick loves you so much that it’s actually disgusting. If he told you he needs time to think, then that’s all it is.”

“Well,” Arthur mutters. “That isn’t exactly what he said. He said he felt like a can of—”

“_ Please _ don’t repeat it,” Dot interjects, sounding strained. She hates it when Arthur repeats Tick-isms, probably because they don’t come across nearly as well when they’re coming from a jaded nerd who _ isn’t _ in a big blue super-suit. “Listen, I don’t see why you’re freaking out. I mean… Arthur. Be real with me. Do you even care about sex?”

Arthur wrinkles his nose. “I don’t want to talk about this with my sister.”

“Uhhhh, yeah, you do. You called me.” Arthur hears gruff laughter in the background. He isn’t sure if he should be mad that Overkill is eavesdropping or glad because it means that his mother definitely isn’t. “Also,” Dot says, “stop pacing. I can hear your footsteps and it’s still driving me bonkers.”

Arthur stops in his tracks. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it, but he’d been walking in circles through his busted apartment. Trying his best not to release the world’s heaviest sigh into the phone, Arthur moved to flop onto the couch.

The last time he’d been laying on this couch, the Tick had been laying on top of him, kissing his neck, blissfully oblivious to Arthur’s dire battle against coming in his pants at the age of twenty-nine. Now, Arthur squeezes his eyes shut and groans. Rude of his brain to even go there at a time like this!

“Arthur?” Dot sounds wary. “Are you okay?”

Arthur gives up on holding in the monster-sigh. He hears Dot snort on the other line; she’d been waiting for it. “It’s— It’s _ fine _ if Tick doesn’t want to, you know? It’s his decision and I love him way too much to make a fuss about that. But— But— …” 

“But you want that big, blue dick!” Overkill’s voice is so loud that there’s no way Dot hasn’t put the phone on speaker. He can hear Dot swatting at him in retaliation, but Overkill doesn’t shut up. “Listen up, moth boy! Just drop to your knees and go to fuckin’ town! _ Literal _ fucki— _ Ouch! _ Dottie! That’s my ear!” 

Arthur hangs up the phone without another word. He’s not sure what he hated more: Overkill’s speculation about the Tick’s (entirely hypothetical) dick or the fact that Overkill was calling his sister _ Dottie _ now. 

In the end, it’s apparently the latter, because Arthur can’t stop thinking about the former. 

Here’s the thing: Arthur meant it when he said he didn’t mind if the Tick didn’t want to have sex. Arthur’s sex drive was a recent discovery to begin with; if he’d gone nearly thirty years without sex and been just fine, there was absolutely no reason why that should change now. Sure, Arthur had a big, handsome, touchy-feely boyfriend now, but that was nothing a more consistent jerk-off routine wouldn’t remedy. What was really driving Arthur crazy was what remained unknown. If the Tick didn’t want sex, that was something Arthur could definitely be alright with. But maybe the Tick _ would _ want to. Maybe he’d been wanting to this whole time, but he just didn’t have the terminology available to follow through. Maybe all this time while Arthur was waiting for the Tick to push things further, Arthur should have taken the lead. Maybe next time he would. Maybe when the Tick got home, he’d...

That train of thought has Arthur feels warm and tingly all over — so, that’s when it hits him. “Oh my God,” Arthur whispers. “Fizzy soda.”

Arthur tries to wait up, but he ends up falling asleep on the couch. When he wakes up, he’s in bed and the Tick is snuggled in beside him. 

* * *

The next day starts out normal. The Tick wakes Arthur up at the crack of dawn with the usual rousing speech about the restless nature of justice, and then they’re off on patrol. There’s not much crime-fighting to do; it bothers the Tick, makes him antsy, but he fills his time by making small-talk with strangers and pulling cats out of trees. The low-effort patrol is just fine with Arthur; he’s not sure he could deal with actual superhero work right then. He can’t imagine trying to exchange banter with a villain while he’s still preoccupied with the idea of developing a sex life.

It’s not until they get to AEGIS headquarters to debrief (sit in the lounge and shovel croissants into their mouths) that things fall off schedule. They’re barely in the door when Sage corners them.

“Hello, friend!” The Tick’s greeting is friendly, but his expression is pensive and his eyes are, as usual, locked on Sage’s Blind Eye. 

“Uh,” Arthur says. “What’s up?” He tries to nudge the Tick and get his eyes aimed in another direction, but it’s a lost cause.

Sage doesn’t seem to even notice. He looks distracted. “Tick. Arthur. You’ve been put on the Big Pharma case again, haven’t you?” 

“All wrong-doing in the City is under our domain if Destiny guides us to it!” says the Tick.

“No,” says Arthur, swatting the Tick’s arm. It earns him an offended look, but Arthur ignores it. “I don’t think anybody is officially assigned. They — Pharma and Magnet — are registered as wanted villains, though, so we’re looking into it anyway.” Sage relaxes slightly at that, but he still looks tense, far more than Arthur has ever seen him. It isn’t often that a villain gets the better of Sage, and Big Pharma had him out of commission for almost an entire month. “Don’t worry about it, man,” Arthur adds, hoping he sounds reassuring. “If we don’t find them, somebody will. And I doubt they’d target you anyway.”

The Tick pipes up again, loud and exited. “No villain escapes un-munched by the mighty jaws of Justice!” 

Sage finally seems to relax, his shoulders sagging. “Right. You’re both right,” he says. He scratched at his beard, contemplative. “If anything, they’ll target you two, since you’re the ones who captured Big Pharma last time.”

Arthur winces. The idea of a super villain showing up at his apartment _ again _ isn’t a pleasant one. The Tick’s grin doesn’t falter. “If they come, we shall be ready, my magical friend!” 

“Right.” Sage looks deeply skeptical. Given the way things went last time, his caution makes sense, but Arthur feels a little defensive anyway. 

“It’ll be taken care of,” Arthur says. “We put them away before, we’ll put them away again.”

On the other side of the room, an AEGIS employee refills the coffee pot. In an instant, the Tick loses interest in the conversation and moves in to devour it. Before Arthur can follow him, Sage snaps his fingers and gets Arthur’s attention again. His hands had been empty a moment before, but he’s holding a box now. It’s small and nondescript and doesn’t look particularly magical. If it had been anyone else, Arthur would’ve assumed Sage slid it out of his sleeve. Arthur frowns. “Um—”

Sage cuts him off. “_ Arthur _.” Sage has an intensely serious look on his face. Arthur immediately feels uncomfortable and avoids eye contact. “You seem distracted,” Sage says. “Did something happen?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, no. It’s.” Arthur clears his throat. Jeez, was his distraction that obvious? That’s embarrassing. “Just personal stuff, you know? Nothing you need to worry about.”

Sage raises an eyebrow. He glances behind him at where the Tick is downing what is probably his third cup of coffee; the new pot is already half empty. “Trouble in paradise?”

Arthur fights the urge to laugh. “Oh, no, nothing like that. Tick is — I mean, we’re great.” It’s the truth. Despite the questions that remain up in the air, things are good between them; their love is unquestionable. The solidity of the thought makes Arthur smile.

Sage seems relieved. “Well,” he says. “Whatever it is, don’t let it get in the way of catching those villains.”

Arthur wants to be irritated at the implication, a retaliation on the tip of his tongue — _ our relationship doesn’t stop us from being effective heroes, dickhead _— but before he can let frustration get the best of him Arthur catches the genuine anxiety in Sage’s body language. He’s got the mystery box in a death grip. “Oh,” Arthur says. “You’re really worried about it.”

“Yes, well.” Sage who averts his gaze this time. “I can’t afford to be stuck laying around for another month.”

“Right.”

“I’ll get flabby.”

“...Right.” 

“And in _ this _ costume, well…” 

“I get it.”

Sage sighs, smoothing a hand over the velvet of his outfit. His other hand keeps clutching the box. When Arthur gives the object a questioning look, Sage almost looks embarrassed.

“Right, well.” Sage looks at the box indecisively for a moment before holding it out to Arthur. “Here. You’ll need this more than me.”

Arthur kind of wants to say “no thanks” before he even knows what’s in the box, just because of how weird Sage is acting, but he sucks it up and takes it. When he opens it, it’s to find what appears to be a regular surgical mask inside. “Uhh. Thank you…?”

Sage rolls his eyes. “It’s enchanted,” he says. When Arthur just keeps looking at him, he elaborates: “It was a vapor that got to Tick last time, right? This mask will filter any air the wearer is breathing.” He winces a little. “I was going to use it myself but, as much as I hate to admit it, you two have a better chance at taking care of this.”

All of the defensive feelings Arthur had been accumulating evaporate in an instant. “Oh.” He closes the box and holds it a little closer. “Thank you, Sage.”

“At your service,” Sage says, facetious. 

“And us at yours!” Tick chirps, swooping back into the conversation late. He throws an arm around Sage comeraderially, grinning from ear to ear. 

Jostled, Sage looks a bit irritated for a moment, but when he peers up at the Big Blue Yonder his expression softens into a smile. “Out of coffee already, Tick?”

“They ought to get a bigger pot!” 

Sage exits quickly after that — though he doesn’t manage to escape a goodbye hug from the Tick — leaving them alone in the lounge once more. 

The Tick’s full attention returns to Arthur. If he notices the unfamiliar box, he doesn’t mention it. “Say, Arthur,” Tick says. “Should we call it a night, too?”

Arthur tries not to look as baffled as he feels, but he’s sure he fails. They do sometimes head home early on slow days, but it’s _ never _ the Tick who suggests it. In fact, if it’s before sundown, Tick would normally protest. 

When Arthur doesn’t respond right away, the Tick is quick to elaborate: “Sometimes, Destiny gives the forces of Justice a break, chum. Plus, we don’t have any leads on Big Farmer or her girlfriend, right?”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Arthur says.

“It’s complicated,” the Tick says, solemn. 

Arthur blinks. “You’re ready to head home?” The Tick just nods; Arthur narrows his eyes. No question about it, there’s something that the Tick isn’t saying. “_ Why _ are you ready to go home?”

All at once, the Tick looks like a deer caught in the headlights — quite the uncanny look for someone of his stature. But the expression quickly dissolves into an embarrassed grin. “Sorry, chum,” Tick says. “I should have been more straight-forward. It’s just that I’ve been contemplating my Desire—”

“Oh.” Arthur’s eyes dart, but the lounge is empty. 

“—and how the things in those videos might be worth a try,” the Tick continues, undeterred. “Especially since you’re interested in it. That’s why you brought it up, wasn’t it, chum?”

“_ You _ brought it up.”

The Tick ignores this, perhaps strategically. “You want to, right?”

Arthur’s eyes dart once again. The lounge is still empty, but he still feels the need to whisper. “Yes, Tick. I— I want to. Do that stuff.” 

“Sex stuff,” Tick clarifies, helpful. 

Arthur is pretty sure if he blushes any more his head will explode. “Yeah,” he says. “Sex stuff.”

The Tick’s grin is blindingly bright. “Alright, then! Can’t wait, chum!” he says, and then he proves it, grabbing Arthur’s hand and all but dragging him out of the facility. 

* * *

At the pace the Tick sets getting back to the apartment, Arthur half expects to be thrown against the wall and ravished like a swooning film heroine. But the Tick releases Arthur as soon as they get in, leaving Arthur to catch his breath in the doorway. 

“So!” The Tick plops down onto the couch; he looks every bit as casual as he would on any other evening. “How do we start?” 

Arthur has no idea. Sure, in theory he knows, but in that way he’s only barely more knowledgeable than the Tick. It’s not like he has any first-hand experience. Even if he did, would any of it even apply to the Tick?

Overkill’s voice echoes in his mind, completely unwelcome: _ Just drop to your knees and go to fuckin’ town! _Arthur’s eyes drop to the Tick’s crotch against his will. Just more blue, as usual, but...

Arthur swallows hard. “You trust me, right?”

“Arthur,” Tick says, miles more serious than the moment calls for, “Even Destiny pales when compared to you. I trust you with my life.”

Arthur takes a deep breath. “Alright,” he says. “I’m gonna touch you now.”

“Keen!”

Arthur takes a step closer. “It might get weird.”

The Tick grins, antennae wiggling. “_ I’m _ weird, chum!” 

That gets a laugh out of Arthur, tension evaporating off his shoulders. Okay. He can do this. He can totally do this.

The Tick’s smile remains unflinching when Arthur drops to his knees in front of him. It’s not comfortable; Arthur wishes he’d put a pillow or something under his knees. But once he’s down there it’s too late. If he backpedals now he’s going to lose his nerve.

“Okay…” Arthur scoots closer until his shoulders are bumping the Tick’s knees. “Spread your legs.” 

The request doesn’t feel that lewd until the Tick obeys it, but there’s something about how eagerly he parts his legs that’s undeniable. Being this up close and personal with the corded muscle of the Tick’s thighs has Arthur’s mouth going dry. Before he can overthink it he grasps the meat of the Tick’s thigh and squeezes — it has a surprising amount of give, considering how indestructible he is. Curious, Arthur squeezes again, a little harder, and the Tick squirms a little.

Arthur glances up. ”You okay?”

The Tick's eyes go wide. “Of course! I love it when you touch me, fella! If you were a sculptor I’d wish to be the clay in your hands! To be baked in the kiln of our lov— ah!” Arthur’s grip on the Tick’s thighs tighten instinctively, and the Tick cuts his rant short, cheeks going pink. His smile grows sheepish. “Right-o! Take your time.” 

Comforted, Arthur returns his attention to the task at hand. He rubs his hands absently over the Tick’s legs as he considers. Part of Arthur expected to see some sort of removable plating or something — any kind of hint that the Tick had more going on between his legs than it first appeared. But, when Arthur braves reaching out to grope there, the Tick is ken doll smooth against his palm.

Somehow, this doesn’t keep Arthur’s dick from twitching in interest. _ Fuck, I’ve got it bad. _ There’s nothing to grab, but Arthur gives the curve of Tick’s crotch another go regardless. It has the same general give as the Tick’s thigh; satisfying to squeeze, but without any real indication it’s any different from the rest of him. 

“Arthur?” The Tick sounds cautious. Arthur peers up at Tick, already prepared to apologize, but the Tick doesn’t look uncomfortable. “I don’t think you’re going to find what you’re looking for, buddy.”

Arthur must be beet red now, if the heat rising through him is to be believed. “You think?”

The Tick shrugs. “I’ve given it the ole poke-and-feel already, chum. If there’s any special equipment hiding down there, it’s doing a _ very _good job.”

It’s not that Arthur hadn’t anticipated this possibility, but he can’t help but feel a little disappointed, even if the Tick isn’t. There’s still plenty of things they can do together, but it does beg the question of fairness. Can Tick even get off properly? Sure, the Tick seems enthusiastic, but… 

Before Arthur can think himself into too deep a well, the Tick interjects. “Let me give it a go, chum!”

The Tick doesn’t give Arthur enough time to even process the request before the Tick is lifting him up with one hand, pulling him to his feet. He’s being gentle, but his grip is unrelenting — not that Arthur was about to resist. Once he’s standing, the Tick wastes no time getting his hand between Arthur’s legs.

At first, the groping is uncomfortable — Arthur is only half-hard and the Tick’s hands are rough even with the fabric of Arthur’s suit in the way — but when Arthur winces Tick quickly changes his strategy, replacing the groping with a caress.

“Oh,” Arthur breathes, relaxing into the gentler touch. He closes his eyes for a moment, only to open them again, not wanting to miss the look on the Tick’s face. The Tick is, as with most things involving Arthur, almost too enthusiastic. The attention the Tick is currently paying the curve of Arthur’s clothed cock is actually a little intimidating — Tick peers close with absolute concentration, moving his hand slowly over the length. When the press of his palm reaches the tip Arthur sucks in a breath, and at that the Tick hones in, dragging his fingers over that spot. Every gasp and whimper that works it’s way out of Arthur puts a glimmer of excitement in Tick’s eyes. “Oh,” Arthur repeats, even quieter now. “Oh, my god.” 

Just when Arthur is beginning to suspect the Tick is going to be content paw at him through his pants forever, Tick peers up at him. “Chum?” 

“Y-Yeah, Tick?” 

“I know it’s hard to tell,” the Tick says, “but I think I’m already naked.”

Arthur stiffens in surprise for a moment, but he’s nodding before he knows it. The Tick doesn’t have to elaborate; Arthur knows what he’s asking for. Tick lights up and immediately sets to work wrestling Arthur out of his suit. 

It’s more awkward than sexy, really. The suit is pretty tight and the Tick isn’t the most careful. If the suit weren’t nearly indestructible Arthur is sure the Tick would’ve torn it in his frantic efforts to remove it. But soon enough the suit is off; the Tick cheers as he casts it aside. Arthur, left in only his socks and his boxers, is beet red by the end of the process.

Embarrassment has left Arthur a little flaccid, but that doesn’t last. How can it, when the Tick is gazing at his thighs like they’re a message from Destiny Herself? It occurs to Arthur that nobody has ever looked at him that way before, but the Tick makes him feel like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Arthur, I think I…” the Tick whispers, but whatever thought he’d been having the Tick doesn’t iterate it, and Arthur doesn’t get the chance to ask before the Tick reaches out and yanks his briefs down to his ankles in one fell swoop.

Arthur squeaks. “T-Tick! Warn a guy, would you?”

“Sure thing, chum.” The Tick sounds almost as distracted as he looks. He grips Arthur’s hips tight enough to bruise, pulling him in closer. 

“Uh, be… be gentle with it.” Arthur trusts the Tick, but he also really wants to keep his dick intact. The Tick doesn’t reply, but he is gentle when his fingers curl around his length. 

The touch is odd, the texture of the Tick’s palm being distinctly different from his own. But the Tick moves his hand slow but firm, and Arthur finds himself getting hard at record speeds. By the time Arthur’s cock has reached its full length in his hand, the Tick is looking at it like it’s the last microbutter croissant at the AEGIS buffet. He’s seen Arthur naked before, dozens of times now, but it’s never been like this. Arthur feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest. “Tick?”

The Tick doesn’t look up. His hand slows to a halt, but he moves his thumb gently over the head of Arthur’s cock, tentative at first, then more boldly when Arthur moans. He presses gently at the slit and Arthur’s knees nearly buckle. 

“_ Tick _,” Arthur repeats, more urgent now. This time the Tick looks up; he’s got a slightly dazed look in his eyes. “Please… talk to me.”

The Tick smiles almost apologetically. “Will do, chum. Sorry.” His attention returns to Arthur’s cock, fixated. “I’m just… Well, I’m entranced, chum! I never noticed how pretty it was before.”

Arthur squirms. “Pretty?” He’s never had anyone else comment on his dick one way or the other; as far as he could tell it was pretty much exactly average. He definitely never considered it _ pretty. _

The Tick nods, adamant. “It’s beautiful. _ You’re _ beautiful.” Arthur’s breath catches in his throat at that. It’s sort of embarrassing, but the Tick is so earnest that it’s hard for Arthur not to believe him. 

The Tick’s smile spreads into a grin. “Can I kiss you?”

“Uh-huh.” Arthur’s only half sure he knows what the Tick is really asking, but he quickly becomes 100% sure when the Tick leans in and presses his lips to the head of Arthur’s cock. 

It’s almost a chaste smooch, except that the target is Arthur’s penis, but that doesn’t keep Arthur from having to bite back a moan at the sight alone. The Tick gets a smug look on his face at that, peering up at him. “Feels good, chum?”

“Y-Yeah, um—” Arthur lifts his hands to caress the back of the Tick’s head, urging him close again. The Tick presses a line of little kisses over his length in reply, and Arthur shivers. He knows the Tick doesn’t intend it, but it feels like a tease. “You don’t have to,” Arthur manages, “but it… it’d feel even better if you put it in your mouth.”

The Tick blinks. He looks up at Arthur, and when their eyes meet, there’s a look of unmistakable urgency in the Tick’s gaze. “Keen! Show me!” 

“Show you?” 

The Tick nods and opens his mouth as wide as it will go.

Arthur is a simple man with simple desires, and he only hesitates for a few seconds before he’s gripping his cock and pushing it into the Tick’s mouth. He realizes only once it’s in that he should have taken things slower; it’s unlike anything Arthur has ever felt, and when the Tick closes his lips around him the pleasure surges with almost frightening intensity. As expected, Tick takes it like a champ and then some — where Arthur’s impulse is to push in gradually, let his partner adjust to the feeling, the Tick wastes no time pulling Arthur in and swallowing him down.

_ Huh, _ Arthur thinks. _ No gag reflex. _That’s his last thought before his hips snap forward and he cums straight down Tick’s throat.

* * *

The Tick sleeps like a baby not even fifteen minutes after giving what Arthur is convinced was the world’s shortest blowjob. 

Arthur remains wide awake two hours past. His thoughts are a whirlwind.

Logically, Arthur knows that if it doesn’t bother the Tick then he shouldn’t let it bother him. If the Tick wasn’t happy with the way things went down that night, he certainly would have said so. Instead, what the Tick had said was a very enthusiastic “Neato!” which had somehow done nothing to dampen Arthur’s afterglow at the time.

It’s not that Arthur didn’t _ want _ to return the favor. Heck, before the Tick turned the tables on him, Arthur’s plan had been to focus on figuring out how pleasure the Tick. But then the Tick had been so eager to have his turn at exploring, and then he’d gotten his mouth on him, and… well. Arthur had barely had the strength to stay upright after that, much less protest when the Tick scooped him up and carried him off to bed. By the time Arthur had come down from his afterglow, the Tick was snoring loudly into his pillow.

Arthur is seconds away from deciding to join his partner in dreamland and deal with this later when his phone starts to vibrate on the side table.

The Tick grumbles and pulls the blanket up over his ears — a stark contrast to his reaction to the AEGIS alarm, which always has him shooting out of bed at record speeds no matter the hour. Arthur reaches to grab his phone and, seeing that the call is from an Unknown Number, naturally sends it to voicemail and plops it back on the table. The minute Arthur lays back down, the phone vibrates again. Arthur stares up at the ceiling, listening to it and wondering just what he did to deserve this kind of torment. The Tick rolls over to face him, cracking one eye open. 

“Who is it?” the Tick whispers. Or, well, his best approximation of a whisper — if there was anyone in the next room, they’d probably be able to hear it — but Arthur appreciates the attempt.

“Ugh, I dunno. Telemarketer, probably.”

There’s a brief moment of silence where the caller goes to voicemail again. The Tick’s antennas twitch. He’s close enough, now that he’s rolled onto his side, that they poke Arthur’s forehead. “Telemarketers are real villains, aye, chum? Calling this late at night.”

“Yeah, well,” Arthur says, and he’s about to go on his usual rant about the nature of telemarketing before he hears his phone start to go off again. What is that, four rings? Really?

The Tick’s expression grows tense. “Maybe you should answer?”

Arthur groans, but the buzzing really is getting on his nerves, and _ four rings _ really is suspicious. Maybe it isn’t a telemarketer. Whoever it is, Arthur decides, they’re going to get a piece of his mind for calling him at midnight right in the middle of his sex crisis, that’s for sure. Grumbling under his breath, Arthur grabs his phone off the table; his irritation only increases when the action causes the charging cord to pop out of its socket. “Dammit… Hello?” 

“Oh, good.” The voice on the other line isn’t immediately familiar, but the monotone continuation gives it away. “I was afraid I was going to have to hack your phone to get you to answer.”

“Edgelord? Wh… Is that even something you can do?”

“It would have been a real hassle. Now, listen. I’m about to text you an address. I need you to meet me there.”

Arthur fights the urge to scoff. “Why would I do that?”

Edgelord is quiet for a moment. He sighs. “I need your help. They got Miss Lint.”

* * *

It’s usually pretty easy to forget that Edgelord is young. He couldn’t be more than nineteen, if he was even that old, but he very intentionally put on an air of superiority and calm that made it difficult to treat him like a kid. Even now, Edgelord is almost the picture of stoicism — but Arthur doesn’t miss the way his hands shake as he taps away at his tablet.

“You’ll have to be quick about this,” Edgelord says. Despite the trembling in his fingers, he sounds the same as usual. “I don’t know how long she has.”

“Don’t worry,” says Arthur. “We’ll save her.” He’s trying very hard to be the calm, responsible adult in this situation, for Edgelord’s sake, but his own voice is shaky with nervous anticipation. He may not be Miss Lint’s biggest fan, but he’s sure he wouldn’t approve of whatever Miss Magnet and Big Pharma had in store for her.

“Of course we’ll save her, chum!” the Tick’s voice is booming, even through the speaker on Edgelord’s tablet. “And we’ll bring those villains to justice! Kidnapping is a very bad kind of bad!” 

“It wasn’t technically kidnapping,” Arthur says. “She snuck into _ their _ lair. They just won’t let her leave.” 

“Victim blaming.” Edgelord rolls his eyes. “Classy.”

“That’s not what I—”

The Tick’s voice booms through the speakers once more. “I found the door, fellas! It was stuck tighter than a python’s mighty coil, but I got her open!” 

“Tick!” Arthur’s shouting is muffled as he rushes to get his helmet on. “You were supposed to wait for me once you found it!”

“Sorry, chum! I forgot! But, fear not! The mighty trail of Justice will never mislea—” 

Very abruptly, his voice is obscured by static. Of course the place would be equipped to block any radio signals. _ God dammit. _

Edgelord looks even more pensive than usual as he watches Arthur scramble out of the minivan they’d staked out in. (It’s Edgelord’s aunt’s. Supposedly she doesn’t mind.) Arthur has the impulse to pause to give him a comforting word, but his whole brain is just shouting _ oh, shit! oh, shit! _as per usual at the start of missions like this and he’s a little afraid that he’ll end up shouting that. Probably best that he just focuses on dashing towards the fortress.

_ A damn fortress, _ Arthur thinks. _ Pretty big upgrade from a CVS pharmacy, don’t you think? _ He almost says it out loud, used to having the Tick at his side to banter with, but manages to stop himself. Better not to waste his breath.

The moth-suit’s interface picks up on the Tick’s presence just as Arthur gets close enough to the fortress to worry that it might not. His abnormal energy read-out shows he’s already on the move, but luckily he hasn’t gone far enough away from the door for Arthur to get lost. Not that it would have been difficult to find: what was once a discreet secret entrance was now a jagged, Tick-sized hole in the side of the wall. Inside, what sounds like a dozen different alarms are blaring. 

Well, at least Arthur won’t have to sneak. He was never as stealthy as he thought he ought to be. 

Now that he’s inside, Arthur can tell the fortress is some sort of military base, or at least it used to be. It takes a lot of effort to resist the instinct to peek inside each and every room in the winding hall, for potential threats or hostages or God knows what else. It’s even harder to resist the urge to walk carefully, mindful of hidden traps. There’s no time for any of that.

To catch up to the Tick he’d have to think like him.

Arthur takes off down the winding hall at top speed. He ignores each and every branching hall in favor of darting straight ahead, turning only when he reaches a dead-end. As such, it’s only a few minutes before Arthur hears the Tick’s heavy footsteps ahead of him.

“Tick!” Arthur yells. At the sound of his voice, the footsteps come to a halt, and when Arthur rounds the next corner he ends up nearly breaking his nose against the Tick’s torso.

“Little buddy!” The Tick immediately scoops Arthur into a hug, but the affection is brief since they’re in a hurry. Arthur tries to feel relieved about Tick’s restraint. “I haven’t found Miss Lint yet! This place is like a maze! A maze of evil!” The Tick puts on his most serious expression. “But we will rescue her. I made a promise.”

Arthur can’t help but smile. The Tick doesn’t smile back but his gaze softens at the sight before he spins around and starts marching down the hall again. Arthur hurries after him.

“Do you know where you’re headed?” Arthur asks, though he already knows the answer. The Tick shakes his head. “What’s the plan, then, big guy?”

“Easy,” says the Tick. “I follow my gut and, eventually, the bad guys show up!”

Arthur grabs the Tick’s wrist, intending to stop him, but the Tick misinterprets and shifts so that they’re holding hands. Arthur doesn’t have the heart to correct him, but he does grimace. “Tick!” He has to shout to be sure the Tick can hear him over the alarms. “I get what you’re saying, but this place is huge. It’s possible they’re hiding from you, or that they set some kind of trap, you know?”

“I do know, chum! But now you’re here with me!”

“So?”

“So, if I get gassed again, you’ll protect me!”

Arthur wants to scream a little, but at least that reminds him. He pulls the mask that Sage gave him out of his pocket and hands it to Tick. “Put this on,” he says. “It’ll filter out anything nasty.”

The Tick slows down a little, just enough to put on the mask. He looks irredeemably silly in it, but Arthur manages to bite back a laugh. Once it’s secured, the Tick looks over at Arthur again, antennae twitching. “No mask for you, little buddy?”

Arthur shakes his head. “I’ll just be careful,” he says, which is a far more satisfying answer than _ there was only one mask and about a billion ways for either of them to get me even if I had one. _ The Tick looks a little skeptical, but he doesn’t ask any more questions. Arthur would like to think that this is because Tick understands the unspoken between them, but it’s more likely because the alarms suddenly stop blaring.

The Tick’s antennas stick straight up when the noise stops, listening intently. Arthur’s hearing isn’t nearly as good as the Tick’s (Arthur isn’t sure if the Tick’s hearing is supernaturally good or if he should get his ears checked, hasn’t gotten around to looking into it) but he still hears something faint in the distance. 

Screaming? 

Arthur opens his mouth to comment, but before he can the Tick is barreling straight towards the source of the noise. Quite literally straight — the Tick busts his way through the walls of the fortress like they’re made of paper, his strength seemingly doubled by his determination. All Arthur can do is scramble after him. The pace is quick enough to make Arthur break into a sweat despite the chilliness of the facility; quick enough, in fact, that Arthur nearly stumbles into Tick a second time when the blue hero skids to a halt once more. 

The first thing Arthur notices when he steps into the room is no doubt what the Tick was staring at: Miss Lint suspended by chains. She’s swaying about a foot off the ground and her skin marked with dark bruises. There’s blood trickling from her forehead. 

Arthur might have felt genuinely frightened for her safety, except the second thing he noticed was the mass of electricity coming off of her in waves. She’s clearly still trapped, but she grins from ear to ear when she spots the heroes. 

The third thing he notices is Miss Magnet crumpled on the floor in front of her. She’s face-down on the concrete. Well, that certainly explains the smug look.

“Hello, boys.” Slowly, slowly, Miss Lint pulls her powers back in. Her outfit is immediately coated head-to-toe in dust and debris, but Miss Lint doesn’t seem bothered by it. “It took you long enough. I was starting to think I’d be stuck here for a while.” 

After a moment to process, the Tick springs into action once more. “Miss Lint! I’m so happy to see that you’ve only been mildly tortured!” The chains that Miss Lint is suspended in are still crackling with electricity, but the Tick barely flinches as he grabs them, yanking them apart with ease. “Ohhhh! That tingles!” 

“_ Tingles? _It’s— Oh, fuck you.” 

“Rude!”

“Just get me down!” 

Arthur does his best to ignore their banter and instead bends to inspect Miss Magnet’s collapsed form. He sighs with relief when he finds her pulse. Miss Lint wasn’t exactly known for murder, at least not now that the Terror was out of the picture, but Arthur wouldn’t have been surprised. Arthur pulls a few zip-ties out of his pocket to tie Miss Metal’s wrists behind her before he flips her over. It won’t stop her from using her powers if she wakes up, but it makes Arthur feel a little more comfortable. 

The moment Miss Lint is free of her binds she strides over to peer down at Miss Magnet. Her upper lip curls. “Would you guys be mad if I kicked her in the face?” She doesn’t get a response, but the Tick scoops up Miss Magnet and tosses her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, keeping her face safely out of range of Miss Lint’s boot. Miss Lint rolls her eyes. “You guys are party poopers.” 

“You could be a little more grateful,” Arthur says, sounding nearly as bitter as he feels. “This fortress wasn’t exactly on my route.” He’s beginning to think that Miss Lint could have gotten out of this on her own; he could have been at home with the Tick right now, and… Well, actually. He shoves that train of thought back into the gutter. 

Miss Lint just rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Where’s Big Pharma?”

Arthur’s back goes rigid at the question. In all the hubbub he’d almost forgotten about her.

“I thought she’d be with Miss Magnet,” says Tick. 

“Well, she fucking isn’t,” says Miss Lint. 

“That’s right!” Big Pharma’s normally small voice is thunderous over the facility’s loudspeakers. “And you’ll never find me, either!”

Arthur spins to look towards the exit — or, rather, the hole that Tick made in the wall. Run for it? he thinks. Would that even matter? No doubt Big Pharma has access to visuals for the whole fortress from wherever she’s holed up. 

“It’s _ Mrs _ Magnet!” Big Pharma’s voice booms. “We’re _ married! _” 

“Congratulations!” shouts the Tick. He looks around for a moment before deciding the general ceiling area is his best bet for where to aim his thumbs up. 

“Thank you! You’re very polite! But — you still have to leave!” 

Arthur scans the room and spies the vents almost immediately, giving him just enough time to think _ uh oh. _ Miss Lint, meanwhile, doesn’t waste any time looking for vents, giving her enough time to mutter “just gas us already” before the room is flooded by a bright green fog.

* * *

When Arthur wakes up, it’s not a surprise. This wasn’t the first time he’d been knocked out by a mysterious substance and it certainly wouldn’t be the last; he’s a regular old human, after all. Still, just because he’s used to it doesn’t mean it doesn’t piss him off a little when he wakes up and finds that his entire body is aching. He can’t bring himself to even open his eyes — actually, he’d prefer to just go back to sleep and find out how things turned out when he _ wasn’t _ feeling bone-deep exhaustion, except that he’s distracted by the sound of familiar voices.

“You shouldn’t have let them go.” Ty Rathbone sounds as stern as usual.

“It was their honeymoon!” The Tick, of course. “Plus, I couldn’t leave my little buddy behind to chase them once they slipped out of my grasp! What kind of partner would that make me?”

Rathbone’s sigh is much louder than it has any right to be. “If you were anybody else, you’d get a suspension for this, Tick.”

“But we’re friends,” the Tick concludes.

“No,” Rathbone says, “that’s not why,” but Arthur can tell the Tick is already ignoring him even before he manages to crack an eye open and look. The Tick has turned away from Rathbone and is looking down at Arthur’s cellphone, typing away. Not for the first time Arthur wonders why he gave the Tick his phone password, but he supposes it’s harmless; the Tick only ever texts Dot or plays Candy Crush on there anyway. Rathbone sighs again, this time even louder. “Looks like your boyfriend’s awake.”

The cell phone slips out of the Tick’s hand as he jolts, but he catches it mid-air before it can hit the ground. His expression goes from pensive to jovial in an instant. “Arthur! My little balloon of hope!” Arthur doesn’t manage to protest the Tick’s public displays before the Tick is scooping him out of bed and pulling him into a near-smothering hug. “I knew there was nothing to fear from that green cloud of evil, chum! Love is a force unlike any other; Big Farmer would never dare put her wife’s life at risk just to threaten yours! But I was afraid anyway! Imagine that! Certain of our success but terrified of our failure! Yes, love is truly a force to be reckoned with!” The Tick’s antennae bury themselves in Arthur’s curls, twitching frantically. “I thought my heart was going to leap out of me, chum! I should have given you the mask!”

All Arthur can do is hug him back. At least he can’t see Rathbone’s reaction past the Tick’s massive blue frame. “I’m fine, Tick,” Arthur whispers. “You can stop worrying now.”

The Tick releases his grip, leaving Arthur to momentarily think that the PDA session might be over, except the Tick only uses the distance to give himself room to lean in again and cover Arthur’s face in kisses. Arthur giggles, unable to help himself, grinning from ear to ear at the affection even as he tries (fails) to push the Tick away. “Not in front of Rathbone, Tick!” 

“Oh, he doesn’t mind!” says the Tick.

Arthur turns to investigate this claim and finds that Ty has already fled the room. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s accurate, Tick.” The Tick just shrugs. Well. There’s nothing to be done about it now. Arthur kisses the Tick’s cheek in return. “Is Janet alright?”

“Quite alright, chum!” The Tick gives Arthur what is likely meant to be a reassuring pat on the cheek, but he just ends up jostling the smaller man. Arthur finds that he doesn’t really mind. “She’s fit as a fiddle! Well — a fiddle with some mild internal bleeding, but it’s nothing she can’t handle!” Arthur winces, but the Tick keeps babbling. “Edgelord took her to his Aunt’s house. I guess she’s a nurse! Isn’t that incredible? A nurse, just like sister Dot! Oh, and I should tell you…”

In the end, Arthur just lets the Tick ramble. There’s a lot to sort through in his head, between the odd phrasing and a tendency to go on unrelated tangents, but Arthur is well-versed in interpreting the Tick at this point. Ultimately, Mrs. Magnet and Big Pharma had escaped; the Tick had apparently been very distracted not only by keeping his two unconscious friends safe but also by Big Pharma shouting her honeymoon plans at him while they fought. Hearing Tick explain it, Arthur understands why Rathbone was so exasperated, but — well. They’ll catch them next time, and there hadn’t been any casualties, so Arthur feels mostly satisfied. 

Besides, putting a gay couple in jail on their honeymoon just felt like bad taste. 

The Tick is still rambling as they head out of the station, apparently content to vent each and every thought he’d had in the time Arthur was unconscious to him now that he was awake. Arthur doesn’t mind, but honestly he also isn’t really listening anymore, letting himself get lost in his own thoughts as they head back to the apartment. There’s going to be a goddamn mountain of AEGIS paperwork thanks to this little escapade. Normally Arthur wouldn’t mind — he actually likes paperwork — but he’s got other things on his mind. Superhero shenanigans and the resulting paper-trail was, for once, a B-plot in Arthur’s mind. Now that the action had settled and the last of Big Pharma’s sedative was wearing off, Arthur’s mind was returning to its previous state: confused and miserably horny. 

Arthur digs himself deep enough into this thought-hole that he doesn’t notice that the Tick has stopped talking until the Tick is reaching out to take his hand. “Everything alright, little buddy?”

Arthur can feel his ears going red, but thankfully he’d put his helmet back on. “Yeah, Tick, I’m alright. Just thinking about, uh. Paperwork.”

“Keen,” says the Tick, though he doesn’t sound particularly keen at all. The Tick hates talking about paperwork almost as much as he hates doing it, but he does his best to respect Arthur’s interest — well, except that he immediately tries to change the subject. “Say, Arthur, what should we do on _ our _honeymoon?”

“Bit early to think about that, Tick.” Arthur tries to sound scolding, but he can’t keep the fondness out of his voice. “We aren’t even engaged.”

“Oh, I know that. I’m just saying.” The Tick is pouting, just a little, but he goes straight back into pure excitement as he continues: “Sandra made it sound so lovely! A whole trip dedicated to love! Bathing nude in the sea! Sweet kisses at sunset! Dancing the night away under the stars! Every sweet thing bundled together to celebrate love’s promise!”

Arthur really wants to ask where Tick got all these ideas about honeymoons (Surely not from Big Pharma, right? How long had they been fighting?) but what comes out of his mouth is, “Sandra? Is that… Why do you know her name?”

“She told me, chum!” The Tick flashed Arthur a wide smile. “Very nice lady, other than all the villainy!” 

They’re going to have to have a talk about the Tick’s new habit of trying to befriend villains. Left over from the Lobstercules misunderstanding, maybe? Arthur doesn’t get the chance to over-analyze it before the Tick is piping up again: “Sorry I let you get gassed, fella.”

Arthur actually laughs at that, unable to help himself. “It’s just part of the job, Tick,” he says. “You said it yourself when it happened to you. No big deal, right?”

The Tick gets an anxious look on his face that Arthur is immediately not fond of. “Guess it feels different, when it happens to you, chum,” the Tick says. “You’re no breakable egg, but I still don’t like to see you rolling across the floor where any hungry snake could come by and swallow you whole.” 

“Tick…” Arthur thinks about arguing, or at least asking what the Hell the Tick meant by that, but, well. Arthur thinks he knows how the Tick feels. He hadn’t liked seeing the Tick looking vulnerable, either (even if the Tick was, in fact, invulnerable). Instead he just reaches out and gives the Tick’s hand a squeeze. The Tick squeezes back.

* * *

For a little while, things go back to normal. 

Arthur doesn’t stop thinking about the sex issue. He doesn’t think the Tick does, either — Tick looks at him a little differently now, sometimes, a new level of heat behind his affectionate smiles and stolen kisses. But they’re still heroes in a city where hero work is seriously under-staffed, and the fact is that soft looks and quick smooches are all they’ve really had time for. The last week has been patrol, crime-fighting, AEGIS briefings, paperwork, repeat — with a few breaks for eating and sleeping if they’re lucky. On one hand, Arthur doesn’t mind. Hero work is what he’s always wanted to do, and he loves doing it, and he gets to do it with the Tick. He wouldn’t trade that opportunity for the world. But Arthur would be lying if he wasn’t ready for a fucking _ break _ by the time day seven of nonstop work rolls around.

For this reason, when Arthur wakes up naturally, without an alarm or the Tick shaking him awake, it comes as a complete shock. He goes from completely comfortable to jolting upright in a matter of seconds, warning sirens going off in his head. When was the last time he got a full— he glances at the clock— nine hours of sleep? Hell, it must have been before he met…

“Tick?”

There’s no response, for a moment. It’s not a _ long _ moment, but it’s enough that Arthur is already half-way through tripping over himself to get out of bed when the Tick’s voice finally pipes up from the other room. “In the kitchen, chum!”

The confused panic in Arthur’s gut is immediately replaced by a sinking feeling. The last time he let the Tick use the kitchen, he nearly burned the entire complex down. But, when he hurries into the room, it’s to find that the Tick isn’t attempting to cook. Instead, he’s sitting at the kitchen table, reading something on Arthur’s laptop. 

It’s not a _ completely _ unusual sight. Sometimes the Tick liked to look things up for himself when Arthur wasn’t around. But never at this hour; usually the Tick rose with the sun and was trekking through the city with or without (but usually with) Arthur by now. Now, though, the Tick is completely transfixed on the screen, barely glancing up at Arthur as he enters; he’s got his face so close to the screen that his twitching antennae occasionally bump the edge.

Arthur clears his throat. Finally, Tick looks up, expression questioning, and— Well, there’s a lot that Arthur wants to ask him, right then. What is he looking at that’s so exciting? Did they get a day off or something? What ends up coming out of his mouth, though, is, “It’s, uh. It’s almost noon.” 

The Tick looks a little surprised to hear that. Had he lost track of time? His surprise fades quickly, though, expression replaced by a sunny smile. “Well, never fear, fella! No calls from AEGIS today, and you were pretty bone-tired! Justice can’t afford to over-sleep, but it can’t be completely deprived, either!” 

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“You were moving like you were made of silly string!” 

Arthur snorts. Okay, yeah, maybe he _ had _ been off his game for at least the last 48 hours or so, but could anyone blame him? He was just a regular human, after all. At least he’d gotten the job done. 

“By the way…” The Tick closes the laptop carefully. Arthur glances down at it, only for his eyes to return and be immediately trapped by the most intense eye contact he thinks he’s ever experienced. The Tick has on his most serious expression. “Are you feeling more rested now?”

“Uh.” Arthur blinks. “Yeah?”

“Swell!” The Tick sits up a bit straighter in his chair — quite a feat, since his posture was basically perfect to begin with. “While you slept, I decided to do some research!” 

Arthur’s eyebrows raise. The Tick did _ research? _ This feels like a moment that ought to be documented. A quick Google search here and there, sure. A practical investigation of a crime scene, maybe. But self-proclaimed research? “Huh. Okay,” Arthur says. “What were you, uh, researching?”

The Tick does not break eye contact as he replies, more than loud enough for the neighbors to hear: “Anal sex, chum!” 

Arthur chokes.

* * *

For all that Arthur had imagined having sex with Tick, he was nowhere near emotionally prepared to see him bent over like this: face pressed to the pillow, ass in the air, wiggling excitedly. 

“Are you sure about this?” Arthur feels like his voice is shriller than usual, but it’s hard to say when his senses are absolutely smothered by excitement.

The Tick shifts up on his elbows just enough to turn his head. He’s grinning from ear to ear. “I’m keen!” 

Arthur knows he’s keen. The afternoon after the Tick finished his “research” they’d gone to the closest Walgreens to get supplies and the Tick had adamantly bought three whole bottles of lube. “Better safe than sorry, you know! A hero must always be prepared!” the Tick had shouted, no doubt confusing the other people in the store and nearly killing Arthur on the spot when he added, “Do we want condoms, chum?” No, it’s not the Tick that needs reassurance, here.

Arthur, on the other hand, feels a little like he might pass out, but he can’t keep the smile off his face, either. “Alright, alright… Be patient, Tick.” The Tick makes a very much _ not _patient noise at that request, but he does stop wiggling enough for Arthur to focus on uncapping the lube. It’s flavored, but Arthur can’t let himself think about that part too hard. 

One of the Tick’s antennae flick out. “Are _ you _ sure about this, chum?” For the first time since they started, Tick sounds a little nervous.

Arthur’s chest clenches. He may be nervous, but he’s nervous about near-about anything and everything. No matter how worried Arthur is that he might mess this up, the bottom-line of things is that he _ wants _ this — and, better yet, he can tell the Tick wants it, too. Arthur swallows his nerves and puts on his bravest face before scooting in closer to the Tick. Using his free hand, Arthur reaches out to press between the Tick’s shoulder-blades, coaxing him back into a relaxed position.

“I’m sure, Tick,” Arthur whispers. “You have— fuck, you have no idea how sure I am.” Tick’s antennae twitch rapidly; Arthur presses a kiss to the small of his back, and Tick finally relaxes. “Now,” Arthur continues, a little more cautiously, “I’m going to prep you, okay?”

The Tick wiggles his hips. “Absolutely! Let your beautiful hands be the pioneers in the uncharted land—” Arthur presses the first finger in. It goes in surprisingly easily and, better yet, it cuts the Tick-isms short, words broken off in a loud gasp. 

The initial entrance is easy, but the Tick is clenching down, now — Arthur finds that he can barely move his finger. It makes sense, Arthur supposes, that the Tick’s sphincter would be as strong as the rest of him. It’s kind of neat, except now Arthur is worried again. “Uh, Tick?”

“Yeah, chum?” The Tick’s voice is at a slightly higher pitch than usual. He’s still wiggling his hips — _ impatient, _ Arthur realizes, a flush rising to his cheeks.

“You’ve got to relax,” Arthur says. He wiggles his finger again, demonstrating for the both of them that he can neither push it deeper or pull it out. “I can’t move like this. Plus— well, I don’t want you to clench my dick off, Tick.”

The Tick makes an unhappy noise. “I would never do such a thing! I love your dick!” (He says it in earnest, but Arthur is still going to file Tick saying _ I love your dick _ away into the spank bank for later.) “But— I see your point! No use driving on a closed road; for you, fella, I’ll be a three-lane highway!”

Arthur barely has a chance to process that. The Tick takes a deep, heaving breath before going almost boneless, slouching down into the pillows as he does. In such a state, it’s by pure luck that the Tick manages to keep his ass in the air— Well, luck and the grip Arthur’s free hand has on his thigh. Arthur gives it a squeeze that’s mostly meant to be reassuring; the Tick moans. _ Alright, then. _

As bizarre as the Tick’s anatomy is, his asshole seems to be basically the same as Arthur’s. Granted, it’s blue and could probably clench powerfully enough to crush bones if the Tick so chose, but it’s still one of the least weird bits. The realization gives Arthur some confidence; he’d done this to himself enough times and the Tick was obviously receptive. He swallows the last of his nerves and works in a second finger.

Prepping is quick after that. The Tick’s body stays utterly relaxed as Arthur works him open, aside from the occasional involuntary twitch of his entrance or encouraging rock of his hips. It’s a stark juxtaposition from the Tick’s vocalizations; by the time Arthur starts to spread his fingers, the Tick is all but shouting, voice barely muffled by the pillow his face is pressed into: “Sweet blazing heaven, chum! Your fingers are matches and I am the stripe! With each strike I am ignited like a sweet bonfire, ready to roast grand marshmallows of love!” Arthur thinks that he must be wired wrong, because this rambling only encourages him. He’s been fully hard for a while now, and it’s only his total concentration on the task at hand that’s keeping him from rutting up against the bedsheets like an over-eager virgin (which, until very recently, was exactly what he’d been). The Tick’s words are even less sensible than usual, but each and every bizarre phrase serves as a reminder of exactly who Arthur is doing this with. 

“Tick,” Arthur whispers. He’s barely audible, but the Tick still hears, his rambling cutting off mid-metaphor, antennae standing straight in attention. Arthur bends to press a kiss to Tick’s hip. “I love you.” 

The Tick laughs, high and delighted. “I love you, too!” 

Arthur scissors his fingers out again. The Tick opens easy now; when Arthur leans back to get a closer look he finds that it looks even more obscene than it feels. “Fuck,” Arthur whispers.

“I was hoping you might!” The Tick sounds so excited that Arthur almost doesn’t catch that he’s making a joke — _ almost _being the operative word. He can’t decide between laughing along and smacking Tick on the ass in reply, so he does both, much to the Tick’s apparent delight.

“Alright. Alright. Alright alright alright.” Arthur swallows his nerves as best he can. “Let’s do it.” The Tick whimpers when Arthur pulls his fingers free, hips rocking up as if he’s trying to reclaim them. Arthur gives himself a second to wipe his hand off (he’d planned ahead and put a towel on the bed) before he says, “Actually. Flip over.”

The Tick makes a questioning noise, but as usual he’s happy to follow along with Arthur’s plans, and he flips onto his back. It’s an immediate improvement — their previous angle had been convenient for prep, but the simple change of being able to see the Tick’s face has Arthur’s excitement skyrocketing. The Tick seems pleased, too, if the giddy smile on his face is any indication. It’s a look that Arthur could almost call pure in its sweetness, except that the Tick immediately spreads his legs and gestures for Arthur to come closer. 

With how focused Arthur had been on the prep, he’d almost been able to forget just how naked he was. It all comes rushing back to him once he climbs into the Tick’s arms, though. The Tick’s body is a unique mix of firm and flexible that had been strange to Arthur at first, but now it’s familiar enough to be comforting. Well, comforting and exciting — he’s never felt this much of Tick’s body against his own without any clothes between them before. The sensation almost overwhelms him as the Tick wraps his arms around him, squeezing him into an embrace. It’s a brief hug, as the Tick is clearly in no mood to wait around, but when they pull apart Arthur is filled with a new confidence.

“You ready?”

The Tick’s antennae twitch rapidly. “Never been readier, chum!” As if to prove it, the Tick lifts his legs upward to give Arthur a better angle. On instinct, Arthur reaches out to grasp both thighs, and Tick all but bends himself in half to accommodate. 

Never been readier, indeed. 

Arthur coats his cock in a liberal amount of lube, though he quickly realizes it’s unnecessary — once Arthur lines himself it’s effortless to press inside. It’s Arthur’s plan to go slow, inch his way in and check on the Tick every few seconds _ just in case. _Apparently the Tick has plans of his own; the moment the head of Arthur’s cock slips inside the Tick’s throws his legs around Arthur’s waist and pulls him close. 

It’s all Arthur can do not to lose it immediately when he bottoms out. The Tick clearly has a similar sentiment, if the way his thighs tremble is any indication. “Oh, Arthur, I am unraveled! All this time, I was a lock and you were the key! You are—Oh!” 

Arthur snaps his hips, thrusting sharply enough to cut the Tick’s waxing short for a moment. The Tick’s barrel chest heaves as he regains his breath and oh, _ yes _, there’s no doubt now that Tick is enjoying this properly. His speechless state doesn’t last — “Oh, you are the bees knees! The cat’s pajamas! The holiest of guacamole!” — but Arthur keeps fucking him through it without hesitation.

Before, Arthur had imagined his inexperience would be glaringly obvious; perhaps with anyone but the Tick it might be. But Arthur’s reckless thrusts have no chance of hurting the Tick. The more desperate and quick Arthur’s hip movements become, the more enthusiastic the Tick is; his poetics continue being waxed, but they’re interspersed with gasps and moans. “Sweet calzones— oh, chum! — my heart— sweet Destiny, you— oh! _ Arthur _!” By the time Arthur gets ahold of his thighs again and gets the leverage to start thrusting harder and faster, all that’s coming out of Tick is barely more than gibberish. 

Arthur had spent a lot of time wondering if the Tick could have an orgasm and, if so, how in the world Arthur would be able to tell.

This concern was needless.

When the Tick hits climax he does it with a full-blown caterwaul. It almost sounds pained in its intensity, except that he’s got the biggest smile Arthur’s ever seen on his face. His entire body trembles as if he can barely contain its magnitude and he throws his head back with so much force that something in the bed-frame splinters with a loud crack. There’s no time to worry about the damage before Arthur finishes with such force that he blacks out.

* * *

When Arthur comes back to himself he feels warm from head to toe. There’s no telling how long he’s been out for — it could’ve been a few seconds, it could have been an hour. When Arthur opens his eyes, it’s to find the Tick’s face not an inch away from his own. His eyes are closed, but he’s clearly awake, if the way his antennae are twitching about are any indication. Once upon a time, this would have startled him.

Arthur smiles a wide, lazy smile. “Hey, Tick.”

The Tick’s eyes pop open and, in an instant, he’s smiling too. “Chum! Are you alright?”

“Mm. Yeah.” Arthur bumps his nose against the Tick’s own, earning a delighted noise in return. “That just— Wow. It really hit me.” 

“No kidding! You should have seen yourself, chum! You lit up like the dawn!” The Tick wraps his arms around Arthur’s waist, wrestling him into a tight snuggle. Arthur lets himself be man-handled, feeling too boneless to complain; his nose ends up pressed between the Tick’s pectorals, which isn’t a bad place to be at all. “I had to go in the bathroom and clean up,” Tick says. “But I don’t think you noticed I was gone.”

_ Clean up. _Arthur’s ears burn. Right. He’d completely neglected the condoms they’d picked up for this very purpose, hadn’t he? “Sorry about that,” Arthur says, but when he peeks up at the Tick his partner doesn’t seem ruffled.

“No worries, fella! No damage done! We’ve got nothing to worry about — we’re both clean as a whistle!” They were. The STD testing at AEGIS had been mandatory, regardless of the fact that Arthur had been a virgin and the Tick was the Tick. Still, Arthur can’t help feeling a little embarrassed for not even thinking about it. Arthur presses his face between Tick’s pectorals with a heavy sigh, prompting a laugh hard enough to jostle them both. “Don’t pout, chum! Your pipe’s sweet smoke signaled only messages of pleasure and love!”

“My pi—? Oh, please, stop it.”

“What should I call it then?”

“Don’t call it anything!”

“Don’t be sour. How about honey-stick?”

“Excuse me?”

“Or, ah— a sweet love-tool!”

Arthur groans. He’s 75% sure he’s doing this on purpose. When he looks up to scowl at him, Tick has on his most innocent expression. Alright, 95%. 

“Can you _ please _ just call it my dick?”

Tick has the nerve to look scandalized. “I can’t curse in public, chum!”

“Wh— Don’t refer to it in public at all!”

“What? I can be subtle!” 

Arthur opens his mouth to remind Tick that he had never once in his life been subtle, but he’s cut short by a blaring alarm. The AEGIS device was still laying on the ground where Arthur had smacked it away a week prior, but it’s still more than loud enough to absolutely ruin Arthur’s afterglow. The Tick leaps to retrieve it, sending a displaced Arthur tumbling to the foot of the bed in his haste.

Tick is grinning ear to ear as he grabs it. “Looks like it’s time to stop being naked, chum! Destiny awaits!” 

One of these days, Arthur was going to kill Ty Rathbone — and make sure he stayed dead this time. But, until then, Arthur drags himself out of bed to follow the Great Blue Yonder yet again. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, all feedback is appreciated!


End file.
